29. Olivia
Chapter 29
Olivia
I should thank you for being a jerk, and never for real.
T he air whooshes out of his lungs like he’s been holding his breath the entire time he told me what happened with Felix on that fateful day. As if he was reliving the whole situation.
His whispered last words echo in my head, and I’m not sure I can ever unhear them.
I just wanted to keep you safe. I couldn’t let him hurt you again.
Holden’s been keeping this all in. Not just during his years in prison, but also after. Every time we’ve seen each other. Every time I glared at him, dismissed him, or wished I didn’t have to see him, every single moment we’ve spent together in the last few weeks.
Holden’s been protecting me.
He saved me from a fate I’m not sure I would have survived.
A shiver surges through my body at the thought of Felix getting his hands on me.
Holden’s why I’m still here in one piece—both physically and mentally.
Meanwhile, he’s been carrying this secret I still can’t wrap my head around.
“Shh.” The coolness of the grass grounds me as I lift my trembling hands and gently wrap them around Holden’s neck, using the leverage to pull him against me. His last words echo again in my head, the way I knew they would. So I voice them back to him, needing him to hear them. “It’s okay. You made sure he could never hurt me again. You made sure I was safe.”
My grip on him tightens, but he doesn’t complain. I don’t know why I need this so much, why I need to assure myself he is here with me, and none of this is a figment of my imagination.
After a moment of stillness, he finally bands his arms around my middle and holds me just as tightly. And I’m glad, since his hold on me might be the only thing that keeps me together. Without it, I might collapse, or worse, the storm inside me would break loose and the flood of emotions with it.
What am I supposed to do with all of these chaotic feelings? Shock, gratitude, and despair all swirl together, billowing around me and threatening to bury me altogether.
I dig my fingers into his hair and his shirt, clinging to him with all my might, desperate for an anchor to keep me safe in the revolving tide of thoughts I don’t stand a chance of unraveling yet.
The words I want to say tangle in my throat, leaving only my embrace to speak for me.
Thank you for protecting me.
Thank you for saving me.
Thank you for standing up for me.
Sorry for doubting you.
Sorry for being so blind.
Sorry for not trusting you.
Stormy barks somewhere nearby, right as the first few raindrops hit my scalp.
I dread the point Holden will let go of me. I’m not ready yet. I’m not sure I’ll ever fully be.
Of course, Stormy doesn’t get the significance of this, trying to join the huddle Holden and I are in, showering us with licks and wet nose nudges. Eventually, I push her away, but the moment with Holden is long broken.
The sky seems tired of waiting, too, fully opening up now. Rain pours down on us, and I reach for Holden’s hand. He grabs mine at the same time, and we run toward the house, entirely drenched when we reach the patio.
On another day, I imagine us laughing over being caught in a similar scenario.
But not today.
Today, the emotions are too close to the surface; the wounds still too raw and gnarly.
We stand under the patio roof, and I stare at Holden. His hair is plastered to his face with droplets of water running down his chin. His eyes search mine, wide and unguarded, and my throat tightens at the sight. He seems almost lost, like he bared his soul to me, and now he doesn’t know how to move on from that.
The air feels heavy around us, saturated with everything that’s been said and left unsaid. My stomach churns with a ferocious knot of emotion I can’t name. I push the wet strands off Holden’s forehead, the longing and something else that feels too fragile to name right now too hard to resist.
Holden closes his eyes and leans into my touch. His breaths are shallow, as if the weight of this moment could shatter him.
Seeing him this unrestrained and raw burns into my brain, and I know I don’t stand a chance to outrun this. There’s no shelter from what’s crashing down inside me, no shelter from us .
Everything that stood between us is crumbling to dust.
A door opening faintly registers.
Archer clears his throat a few feet away, holding up a towel. “I’ll take care of Stormy. You two get your asses to the mudroom. I left a pile of towels there for you. No need to make a mess of the entire house.”
I mumble a quiet, “Thank you.”
The two men share a prolonged look, then Archer tilts his chin up. “Go before you get sick. I’ll make dinner.”
Holden rasps, “Thanks, Arch,” as his friend coos at Stormy with the towel in front of him, “Where’s my favorite girl?”
Holden turns to me with the softest smile I’ve ever seen on his face. “Ready to get soaked some more?”
I sigh and stare at the sky. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
We walk under the patio roof until it ends, then sprint the rest of the way to the side entrance. The cold rain pelts down on us while Holden enters the code with stiff fingers and yanks it open.
The door shuts with a loud click behind us, absorbing most of the outside noise. We stand across from each other in complete silence, both of us absorbing this shift between us.
A snort escapes me. “We look like drowned rats.”
Holden huffs a breath. “I might, but you look beautiful.”
An involuntary shiver runs through me, and Holden scans around the room until he spots the stack of gray towels on the bench to our right. Archer definitely deserves a gold star for this.
Grabbing a couple of them, Holden hands me one. “We gotta get you warmed up.”
I nod and run the towel over my hair. “I think my hoodie has soaked up about a hundred gallons of water. It’ll be a pain to take it off.”
“Do you want me to help?”
My breath hitches, and my hands still, the towel hiding my face from him.
Do I want him to help me take off my hoodie?
My heart is racing so loudly at the sheer thought, I’m sure he can hear it.
Now that he bared himself to you, there’s nothing left between you. You need to give him something. Anything.
You know you want to. You know you want him .
Another shiver rolls down my spine, this time not from the cold but from the thought of his hands on me.
On a deep inhale, I nod. “Could you?”
His only reaction is the bobbing of his throat when he swallows loudly. Taking a step toward me, he says, “Arms up.”
I put the towel on the bench and lift my arms above my head. Holden grips a fistful of my sweatshirt on either side and lifts it up. Slowly. Painfully. His hands brush along the sides of my rib cage, and I gasp.
A strange mixture of anticipation and disbelief bubbles in my chest, and I press my lips together to keep quiet.
The sweatshirt moves up my neck, hiding my face as he raises it farther. Once it passes my mouth, Holden pauses for a nanosecond.
What is he doing? Is he staring at me?
Every nerve in my body wakes at the thought, my skin feeling alive, buzzing with an overwhelming need that threatens to buckle my knees if I don’t do anything.
I wiggle, unable to stay unmoving for a second longer.
Holden gets the hint and pulls the sweatshirt up the rest of the way, tossing it into the empty laundry basket a few feet away.
I blow out a breath. “Phew. Much better, thank you.”
Holden’s gaze drops to the tank top I’m wearing. The one that’s turned into a second skin and is pretty much invisible at this point. My nipples greet him too, because I forgot I had taken off my bra earlier.
Out of reflex, I cross my arms over my chest.
“Don’t hide from me.” The demanding words slip out of his mouth. “Please.”
I exhale shakily and nod because what else am I supposed to do?
“You never have to hide from me, Hurricane. Ever.”
The urge to lean into him is almost impossible to resist, but I’m suddenly aware of every inch of my skin. My mind catalogs every part of me, every imperfection. The parts of me that are too soft or too much. Not enough. Too jiggly. Too dimply. What if he notices it all and can’t see past it?
The thought urges me to do something. To hide. To run.
He just said not to hide.
With some effort, I ignore the fear and give my insecurities a voice. “What if you don’t like what you see?”
Every instinct yells at me to take back the words. To draw up my walls. To shut him back out.
But I force myself to stay still. To stay open. To take a page out of his book and allow myself to be left naked in a way I haven’t allowed myself to be in a long time.
My heart hammers violently, but the world hasn’t shattered. I’m still here. Holden’s still here.
He steps toward me, his hands twitching at his sides until he balls them into fists. “There will never be a part of you I don’t like. You’re exactly the way you’re supposed to be. Real. You. Beautiful inside and out. Perfect. There isn’t a single thing I’d change about you.”
My eyelashes flutter as I blink at him, leftover raindrops trailing down my cheeks and nose.
Every word he utters crashes into me with the strength of a wave, destroying any remaining barrier between us. This man sees me. Not just the version of myself I show the world, but the real me. He’s the only one who ever has, and I’m tired of denying myself the connection that’s always been between us.
His words replay on a loop in my mind, each carving itself into the deepest parts of me, as if they were etching into my soul, branding me as his—a permanent mark that is both inescapable and undeniable.
God, how I want to be his.
You deserve someone to want you exactly the way you are.
With this newfound warmth under my skin, I push the words past my lips I know will change everything. “Then show me.”